


He Is Worth Everything

by syriala



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M, POV Second Person, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: You think it might have been worth it, everything you went through, just for getting to know Stiles.You don’t dare to think it too often, feel bad for even having that thought, but you can’t help it. Stiles was wortheverything.





	He Is Worth Everything

You think it might have been worth it, everything you went through, just for getting to know Stiles.

You don’t dare to think it too often, feel bad for even having that thought, but you can’t help it. Stiles was worth _everything_.

~*~*~

You think it’s worth it, crawling over the floor, bloody and beaten, your only remaining living family stalking up to you. You can hear Peter pant, can hear him snarl even in this human form and you know.

The uncle you once loved is long gone.

Consumed by the fire you helped set and crippled by the time away from the pack you helped take away from him.

He isn’t your uncle anymore and you can’t begrudge him his vendetta, but still. You drag yourself up and lash out at him, because it means his attention is on you, and not on Stiles.

Because it means Stiles gets to run away and be safe, away from the monster that wears your uncle’s skin like it belongs.

_It’s worth it_ , you think, even as razor sharp claws cut into your skin. _He’s worth it._

~*~*~

You’re still trying to keep the bile down, trying to get away from Scott and Gerard both, and you’re not sure who horrifies you more.

You still taste the poisoned, rotten blood on your tongue, traces of wolfsbane laced through it, but you also still feel the hand at the back of your neck, forcing you to give the bite, _a gift_ , to someone who happily slaughtered hundreds of werewolves.

You don’t know which makes you shudder more.

But then your eyes fall on Stiles, and you feel the red-hot surge of rage drown out any lingering disgust you felt.

There are wounds on his face, and you’re pretty sure on his torso, too, with how he holds himself. And then it hits you.

Gerard’s scent, all over him.

And you see how his eyes linger on Gerard, see the split knuckles of the hunter’s hands and you find yourself thinking _If he touched Stiles this is worth it._

The rage has left you again, and you’re almost gagging when the taste hits you again, you feel your whole skin crawl with the phantom grip at the back of your neck, and yet you can’t help it.

_If it means he can sleep safer, it’s worth it. It’s always worth it, for him._

~*~*~

Stiles looks at you, tears streaming down his face and he begs you for his fathers’ life.

One move, and you could have the darach’s heart in your hand; one move and the feeling of her hands all over you, of her mouth on yours, would be of the past.

She’s standing close enough to you, is not paying attention to you at all, and it would be so easy. You could kill her right here.

And yet you don’t.

Your body was already violated, your mind already altered to want her in the first place. It makes no difference if you have to endure her presence for some more hours, not if it means that she can show them the way to Stiles’ dad.

You think back to his face, his breaking voice, his breathless plea, when you’re trapped in the elevator with her. It’s a perfect opportunity yet again, she’s too convinced of her power, and yet you hesitate.

Stiles was yelling at you earlier, more alive and radiant than he had been in the loft, but still only fueled by worry for his dad.

And you can’t do it.

You close your eyes when she whispers into your ear, suppress your shudder when she trails light fingers over your arm, and you clench your teeth when she presses feather light kisses to your neck.

She flips you around, so much stronger than you ever noticed, and she kisses you, forcing her way into your mouth once again, and you only cling to one thought.

_It’s worth it if we find his dad. It’s worth it if Stiles can smile again._

~*~*~

You’re too tired to curse, pain so bright and hot under your skin you can barely manage to walk into the loft.

The shards aren’t just lodged into your skin; they are sucked in, deep, and mostly healed over by the time you get your shirt off. You clench your jaw, teeth grinding together as you grab for a knife.

You think you might have to throw up when you slice through the newly healed skin, when you see the fresh blood run down your back.

You don’t even like Chris; he might be an ally, but he’s not worth your protection or your pain, and yet here you are, and you gave him both.

You wish you could say you wondered what possessed you then, but it would be a lie.

It’s always him.

You might not like Chris, but Stiles does; and you knew that if his bomb should hurt someone Stiles cares about, the boy would be upset once you get him back.

And you have already seen enough tears from him.

_It’s worth it_ , you think as you cut into your skin again, cold with pain overpowering your system. _As long as he doesn’t have to wake up to the blood of someone he likes on his hands, it’s worth it._

~*~*~

_It’s worth it_ , you think as the berserker’s blade slides into your body, again and again.

You fall down, vision greying around the edges, and you’re no wolf any longer. The last trace of it has left you during the car ride, has left you painfully human and vulnerable. It’s a strange feeling when the blood doesn’t stop running down your sides.

It’s an even stranger feeling when the pain is still as blinding as it was when the berserker hit you, even after minutes and when Braeden props you up again some rocks.

You know this is it, you can feel your heart slowing down, you can feel the wounds _not healing_ , and you think _It’s worth it_.

Because Stiles is there, looking at you with wide, scared eyes, but he’s there. Alive and well, and able to turn around and walk away from you. He wouldn’t be, if he had gotten out of the car first.

He comes back for you, once, two, three times, and you love him even more for it. But you send him away, because his duty, his family, his love is with Scott. A tiny part of you revolts against the prospect of dying without him by your side, but a bigger part doesn’t want him to see you.

_It’s worth it_ , you think as you watch him walk away.

_He’s worth everything I have and so much more_ , you think as darkness, and death, finally claim you.

 


End file.
